


Eight is a Lucky Number

by orphan_account



Category: Tiger & Bunny
Genre: Get Together, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-08
Updated: 2011-08-08
Packaged: 2017-10-22 09:19:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't love at first sight. At least not for Kotetsu.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eight is a Lucky Number

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for T&B up to episode 16.

**First**

Kotetsu dives from a giant blimp, arms and legs tucked in to avoid the bullets spitting after him, and it’s during mid-fall that the strength in his body gives out, his muscles shrink to normal mass, leaving him defenseless and panicking as the size of concrete expands and expands. He’s flailing, no grace and no pride, as fear wrenches his organs up, upwards, ears popping and brain short-circuiting in blind-blank shock.

Something crashes against him, hard and soft at the same time, but there’s no time to react because just as quickly the sensation leaves, abandons him to air and gravity.

He somehow lands, not gently, not fatally, on top of a blanketed truck. He stares, open-mouthed and hyperventilating, as the night sky bursts with the color of gunpowder fireworks and a flash of purple.

 

**Second**

is the surprise of being approached by Sky High, the newest competing Hero, who takes off his helmet with careless ease to reveal sweaty bangs and cornflower blue eyes. He smiles, and it’s _irritating_ , because it’s so unrelentingly cheerful, and here is Kotetsu, torn uniform and sprained muscles, sitting in the goddamn lounge waiting for Ben to come and tell him he’s been too reckless again, and the hospital bills aren’t going to be paid by the company’s insurance if this keeps adding up, so take it easy, won’t you?

Well, here’s someone taking it easy, with that stupid smile and ridiculous helmet tucked under his arm. The spike extends from the top, almost as long as Kotetsu’s forearm, sharp enough to be a weapon if one so pleased.

Kotetsu’s mask is half-shredded on one side, and he glares, eyes narrowed, bottom lip jutting out in annoyance.

“What do you want?” he grumbles.

“I just wanted to say hello,” Sky High says.

“Fine. Hello.” Kotetsu’s being immature, as his mother would say, but he’s tired and hurting and doesn’t want to deal with fake pleasantries.

“Did you get hurt from falling?” Sky High asks. His smile fades, and his thick blond brows crease, giving his eyes this _look_ , worried and filled with too much emotion, like he actually cared or something.

“I landed fine,” Kotetsu says. “Some bastards tried to pull my arms out and clip me some new holes. You know how that goes.”

Now Sky High frowns, adding to that freaking caring expression, and Kotetsu doesn’t like it. The man’s a total stranger, so why bother with the overly concerned act? He just wants to get up and leave, pop some aspirin and sulk and go home where at least he’s got something to distract himself.

“You’re bleeding,” Sky High says. “There’s a cut on your shoulder.”

Kotetsu glances down, and what did you know, there was a cut. Mostly dried, crusted over since it’s been a few hours, but he’s been moving his shoulders a little too much, trying to find a comfortable position, and it’s squeezed a few fresh drops of blood from the scab.

“I’m fine,” Kotetsu answers.

Sky High finally walks away, his footsteps giving that soft leather slap from his boots, and Kotetsu sighs in relief.

He waits for Ben for another thirty minutes, wondering what the hell’s taking him so long, and he’s about to give up and leave when he nearly crashes into Sky High again.

There’s a kit in his hands, bandages and alcohol and swabs and the whole nine yards.

“I used to get hurt a lot,” Sky High says. “When I was eighteen, I learned how to treat cuts and shallow wounds.”

The kit is right there, and the man went through the trouble of digging it out – not even bothering to change out of his costume, Kotetsu notes, and he wants to sigh, wants to rub his face with his hand, at the excessive friendliness of the other Hero.

He obliges, because he’d feel like an ass if he didn’t, and so when Ben comes over with an apology and some papers and catches sight of Sky High carefully bandaging a shoulder, he gives his boss this helpless, resigned look, the kind that says, _yeah, this weirdo decided he wanted to play doctor and I couldn’t really do anything about it, so just go along with it._

 

**Third**

time they meet is during a group photo session. He’s got his domino mask plastered over his eyes, and Sky High’s got his stupid looking helmet in his hands, ready to mar a normal looking face with something that resembled an antenna for radio stations.

“Mr. Wild,” he says, and he always sounds like he’s full of energy, like he’s a bottomless pit of cheer and emotion. King of Heroes, the darling son of Sternbild, nothing can get him down, not even inhuman schedules and photo shoots at seven in the freaking morning.

“Hey,” Kotetsu says, and it’s the verbal version of a limp, disinterested handshake. He hopes Sky High can take the hint.

“You look very nice in a suit,” Sky High says. “It’s strange to see everyone outside of their costumes, isn’t it?”

Kotetsu raises one eyebrow, suddenly feeling awkward and oddly self-conscious. His suit is nearly seven years old – he hasn’t bothered to pick out a new one since his marriage.

“Thanks,” he says, because he’s not sure how to act anymore, not when he can sense Sky High’s intent gaze piercing through his clothes and his mask. It’s sort of innocuous, because he can’t picture Sky High being anything but an outdated white-knight armored in chivalry, but there’s something there, something that makes him uneasy.

“I think they’re calling for us,” Sky High says, interrupting Kotetsu’s rambling thoughts and bringing them back into the compartment of the work place. Kotetsu shoves aside notions of knights and smiles and piercing eyes, ready to deal with the less than savory aspects of being a public Hero.

 

**Fourth**

place is where he stands with Bunny, and it’s kind of surreal to be waving and smiling in front of giant, screaming crowds. He’s pleased as punch but doesn’t let it get to his head – at least not too much – because he’s been doing this longer than Bunny and he’s seen how heroes rise and fall like minor suns across the horizon.

He throws off his suit and peels away the thick under armor, changing into his usual slacks and button-up. With his cap twirling in one hand, he leaves the dressing room and heads out the exit reserved for the Heroes. He’s about to make it when he catches through one of the windows the sight of someone standing outside in the freezing January weather.

It’s Sky High, and he’s got his helmet tucked to his side.

He wonders what the guy’s thinking, and then remembers his meandering thoughts about stars and falling and thinks, hey, here’s one that’s streaking the horizon right now.

He doesn’t know why he doesn’t just leave the man alone – that’s what he’d want – but he gets the feeling Sky High wouldn’t be out in the balcony, risking frostbite and a cold, if he wasn’t a little unsettled.

So he manages to jimmy open one of the unauthorized doors and slips onto the balcony, which seems to be covered in giant crystals of ice and clumps of unattended snow. He puts on his hat, his teeth chattering inside his jaw, and raises a hand in greeting.

“Mr. Wild,” says Sky High, and he seems lost, not the airheaded sort of lost, but the kind that leaves you sounding distant even when you’re a foot away from everyone else. Kotetsu knows that feeling, and thinks maybe it’s good he came out.

“You like winter that much?” he asks. Stupid question, but better to start talking.

Sky High blinks, his blond lashes frosted.

“I like it,” he says. “But I like all the seasons.”

“You’re practically turning blue,” Kotetsu points out. “Want to head inside so we don’t get yelled at?”

Sky High nods, and follows, a bit automatically, frowning deeply about something or another.

The man was too easy to read, Kotetsu thinks. Probably a terrible poker player.

He’s grateful for the rush of warmth that greets them when they enter the building. Sky High isn’t even shivering, but then again, he still has on his tunic and boots and gloves so maybe he isn’t being killed by the cold like Kotetsu in his flimsy green button-up.

“You’re looking pretty down,” Kotetsu says. Why beat around the bush, it isn’t like he has all day. “Is it ‘cause Bunny stole your title?”

As expected, Sky High shakes his head. He’s still frowning, not meeting Kotetsu’s eyes.

“Could we talk about this somewhere private?” Sky High asks.

He understands. There’s bosses and underlings and too many ears to speak about anything personal. Not that he’d want to talk about anything personal in some random studio hall.

“Get changed first,” Kotetsu says. “Location’s up to you.”

Sky High doesn’t look quite so gloomy-gray anymore, a tiny spark of hope giving life to his melancholic features, and it’s strange just how expressive the man can be, how refined his features are despite the boring, wholesome goody-two-shoes image. Sharp nose, high cheekbones, bright blue eyes, and blond hair swept to the side, they assemble into a man more famous for his helmet and lame catchphrases than his striking appearance.

Nonetheless, when Sky High joins Kotetsu, wearing a navy jacket and jeans, he’s almost amused how bland the man’s style is, how typical and hard-working it comes across.

They talk later, just walking down the streets, this time Kotetsu bundled in his brown winter coat and Sky High in a scarf, and he learns about the fear that paralyzed Sky High’s hands and invaded his mind, the sense of uselessness and despair that came from unquestionable defeat.

He doesn’t know how to fix Sky High’s problems. He says as much.

Instead, he gives an awkward pep talk about courage and finding something worth protecting – two things that kept him going whenever he reached rock bottom.

It’s not much, but then again, Sky High had issues, and hell, everyone has issues; he isn’t going to make it go away by tapping a magic wand and saying some pretty words.

But it seems to cheer up Sky High, enough to pull him out of a fog, and he’s thanked, over and over, for listening, for providing such words of wisdom.

He would laugh except he’s too stunned by just how affected Sky High seems, how his cheeks flush and tears form in the corners of his eyes while he says,

“Thank you, Mr. Wild. Thank you.”

 

**Fifth**

day Kotetsu finds out he’s losing his powers, he’s almost at the point of losing himself as well.

He sits in the dumpster, bruised and defeated and so damn tired of being kicked in the teeth and shoved through brick walls that he can’t muster the energy to even move his fingers.

Across the night sky, a streak of purple appears, blurred by splashes of rain.

He closes his eyes, listening to the giant telescreen as an announcer hails Barnaby for his tremendous achievements. He’s not bitter about that, but he’s angry – a muted anger, cooled by the rainwater and chilled by the choking, gut-ripping fear of losing everything he’s wanted, all of his dreams and identity, only to watch as they render into the ashes of his sacrifices, of his failures.

“Mr. Wild?”

Drenched and hovering in mid-air, Sky High stands before him, one hand reaching out. He’s in his uniform, helmet glinting with bright spots of light in certain places while shrouded in dimness in others, and his tunic is no longer white but a transparent sort of gray. His purple gloves are almost black.

“Mr. Wild, can you speak?”

He’s too sore and too raw to deal with questions, so he averts his gaze, hair falling over his face to hide the burning shame scarring into his skin.

“Mr. Wild.”

Gloved fingers, soggy and cold, touch his swollen cheek and it’s almost soothing if it didn’t make him flinch.

“Mr. Wild.”

This time something lifts him up – strong but gentle, but not like arms. He lets himself be blind to his surroundings, lets Sky High bandage him up again because he can’t do anything else right now.

Somehow, Sky High manages to find a hospital and admits him there. He disappears quickly because everyone recognizes his silhouette and his clothes even when the Hero’s got trash and water staining everything.

Kotetsu thinks he needs to say thank you, needs to acknowledge Sky High’s kindness, but the doors of the hospital snap shut before he can attempt to use his voice again.

 

**Sixth**

and Madison is where they meet up so Kotetsu can take Sky High somewhere to eat, because he wants to say thank you but it’s been a few weeks and it would be too awkward to say it now, after all that time. So he’s saying thank you, but not really, only in a way to ease his guilt and to satisfy the need to pay someone back, because like hell he would be in Sky High’s debt.

He doesn’t realize there’s a misunderstanding until they finish their entrees and dig into the pie.

Sky High smiles shyly, his eyes a little brighter than usual, and he fiddles with something in his bag until Kotetsu polishes off the last of the apple crumble.

A bottle of wine, and a small package, wrapped in red and gold with a little ribbon on top, appears on the table.

He stares at the items for a good two seconds, unbelieving.

“What is this?” he asks.

“W-well, I wanted to get something nice for you,” Sky High says. He tucks a stray strand of blond hair behind his ear, a nervous gesture. He’s looking everywhere but at Kotetsu, and his hands are fidgeting.

“You’re kidding,” Kotetsu says. His eyes are wide and his voice is flat.

“If you don’t like it, you don’t have to keep it!” Sky High says earnestly. “I just thought… since we’re on a date and everything…”

He said it. He really said it. Kotetsu’s mouth is open, and he’s probably got a gobsmacked expression that would make Bunny tease him for weeks had he seen, but who wouldn’t in a situation like this?

“Mr. Wild?” Sky High glances at him, worried and too serious, his bright blue eyes shining with a strange emotion.

Kotetsu reacts by laughing.

Not a cruel cackle, or one of hysterical disbelief.

No, he’s laughing because he doesn’t know what else to do. It draws the attention of the other patrons in the restaurant, causes the waitresses to whisper amongst each other. He keeps laughing, rubbing the back of his head, and he can’t stop, even though he knows he’s being a total idiot.

Sky High hunches a little over their table, face turning increasingly red.

Finally, the last of the laughter fades and his hand falls from his head, grabbing the present and wine.

This was a disaster. He should’ve known.

Instead, he does what he was supposed to do weeks ago. He makes Sky High stop scorching holes in the table cloth by touching his hand.

A tingle runs down his arm as skin meets skin.

“Thank you,” Kotetsu says quietly. He’s starting to flush too, but he continues doggedly. “For everything. For the bandages, the hospital, the… _this_.”

At that moment, Sky High stops being Sky High for Kotetsu.

No, all the images of the former King of Heroes are erased by the simple, strangely heart wrenching smile that appears on Keith Goodman’s face. It’s not excessively cheerful or maudlin; no, it’s pure and it’s unforgivingly honest and it reveals to Kotetsu the man behind the Hero. It reveals to Kotetsu the person who’s been standing there, hand outstretched, waiting for him to say,

“Thank you, Keith.”

The pain that spreads a little off-center in his chest when Keith’s smile widens into unrestrained joy is somehow refreshing, somehow pleasant.

 

**Seventh**

is the hour when Kotetsu arrives at Keith’s house, nervous and a little excited. It makes him feel young, something he never thought he’d say because he’s not old, no matter what Kaede and Bunny might remark, but now he’s definitely somewhere in the middle, far away enough that the butterflies in his stomach trigger nostalgia and make him seem like he’s a teenager again.

He stands and waits for Keith to open the door, to greet him in a plain white shirt and jeans, feet bare and hair messy from a fresh shower.

The door opens and he’s not disappointed.

“Kotetsu,” Keith says. It took ages, weeks, for Keith to stop saying Mr. Wild, and it makes Kotetsu wonder how long he’s been “Mr. Wild” in Keith’s head for it to be such an instinctive response. He had no problems switching to Keith – although there’s always that bizarre feeling that follows from the intimacy, secret to all but themselves.

“I brought beer and some steak we can grill later,” Kotetsu says.

“That’s perfect,” Keith says. He moves aside to let Kotetsu enter, a towel rubbing the side of his hair. He’s wearing shorts, the breezy kind that barely touches knees. It’s completely casual and something Kotetsu enjoys, maybe because it’s been so long since he’s hung out with anyone as more than a not-close friend.

Keith is… he doesn’t know how to put it in words, at least not yet, but he’s more than a not-close friend now.

He doesn’t know exactly when Keith slipped past his defenses, doesn’t know why he’s not alarmed. But then again, aside from Bunny, the only one who’s ever seen him angry and desperate and absolutely miserable is Keith. Somehow, through luck and some of that good boy scout vigilance, Sky High had found Kotetsu during one of his evening patrols that night in the dumpster, had seen him and not judged, had rescued him and held him all the way to the hospital, concern and compassion aching in blue eyes.

It made him realize how much he hated being alone when in the morning he woke up in a hospital bed with nothing but an IV drip for company.

Later, when Bunny visited and asked him questions, he found the walls forming again despite himself. Bunny shouldn’t have to get himself mixed up in this mess called Kotetsu Kaburagi, not when he was on top of everything as golden as can be.

He didn’t want to drag anyone into his business, but Keith already intruded, already shattered some of those walls the way he shattered glass with that wind of his.

So in the hospital he gave Bunny an excuse and ignored the strange distance that made his partner frown as he left, red boots flashing just before the door closed.

He planned to do the same to Keith had the man not burst into his room with flowers and a get well card and grabbed one of his hands. Keith talked, some of what he said an echo of Kotetsu’s words from that frigid night in January.

The other parts, the stuff he wasn’t repeating, reminded Kotetsu he’s not the only one to feel his self-worth crumble with his Hero façade, reminded him that he and Keith are _different_ because this wasn’t about confidence, it was about losing your goddamn powers and you couldn’t get those back, no matter how many lame pep talks you heard.

He said as much that night, anger cracking his voice and transforming it to something like anguish, and he hated himself a little bit for snapping, for being weak enough to break down in front of a co-worker, for being not strong enough to deal with this on his own.

Keith was stunned, but he was quick to hold Kotetsu as he cried, tears and snot running down his face as he struggled against the very idea of being torn apart, wasted, left obsolete in a world where his purpose, his meaning, was wrapped up entirely in the concept of being a Hero.

For hours he came apart at the seams, unable to sustain his tears but unable to bring himself back together either.

Keith stayed with him until as long as he could. Once the windows darkened and visiting hours came to a close, he followed the rules like a good boy and left, but he made sure Kotetsu wasn’t alone, leaving him with flowers and gifts and stupid stuffed animals as though he was a girl.

He would never admit, especially now, that he had gathered all those things by his bed and kept them there, wanting so badly to stave off the loneliness that came from losing his center, from realizing there were so few left who could – _would want to_ – stay by his side.

It was after five hospital visits that he started hanging out with Keith, although it was more like the man invited himself along. He visited more hospitals after that, since he couldn’t hide the decline of his powers from his company for long, and he was sent as a guinea pig for all sorts of genetic testing and experimental programs to determine the cause of the loss and, possibly, to find a cure for his condition. Apollon Media decided he could stay on board since his performance wasn’t detrimental to Bunny’s own, and in fact, made his partner look even better. They put him through hell though, training and testing and having meetings, until all he had time for was eating and sleeping.

Keith seemed to find time though, and helped Kotetsu by waiting with him in clinics, bringing with him sugar-free drinks, fresh fruit and granola, anything that could replenish Kotetsu’s energy after running and stuffing himself with pills that made him dehydrated and anemic – apparently, the boy scout was a health nut to boot.

So now, over the course of a few months, after their weird first date-not-a-date, Kotetsu ends up being with Keith a lot, seeing more of the man’s face than of his own partner’s even, as Bunny was swamped with publicity and Hero-ing to really have time to meet outside of work.

He’s almost used to Keith’s house too, which is a scary thought.

And John, Keith’s best friend, is definitely used to him.

Kotetsu nearly burns the steak, forgetting about it in his tussle with the dog, who barks happily and thumps his tail on the ground whenever Kotetsu rubs his belly. Keith saves dinner from a tragic fate by deftly removing the meat from the grill, and over their slightly charred dinner they end up chatting, mostly about nothing, mostly about stupid things. Not that either of them are into the sort of “deep” intellectual conversations Bunny likes to engage in about opera or some other fancy crap, but the things they say really are kind of silly, especially since this is Keith. Kotetsu doesn’t mind though, it’s amusing and it’s nice to be able to say dumb things without someone sighing or rolling their eyes.

When the conversation enters a lull, it usually reminds one of them to pick up their dishes and start cleaning.

After dinner, afterwards.

Afterwards is always a question.

Keith won’t ever try making anything more than a half-assed move, not since his fumble during their first date-not-a-date, and for some reason that irritates Kotetsu, makes him a little frustrated because he knows there’s this thick tension in the air, the kind that settles when they realize they’re too close and stray touches generate more sensation than a normal touch should. It’s usually up to him to grab the uncertain hand and pull the man toward him because patience is not his thing, never was really.

They haven’t kissed, haven’t done anything except touch lightly. But it’s been weeks and Kotetsu’s tired of dancing around, especially when _he gets it now_ , gets it better than Bunny’s lecture about him messing with Blue Rose’s feelings, because he understands this tingling and furthermore, he understands Keith, can read the man like a book.

So it’s today he decides, half on a whim and half planned through weeks of pent up want, that he’ll pull Keith close and then pull him closer.

Their lips touch, slightly chapped but still soft, and Kotetsu can feel electricity ignite in a million little fires all over his body at the sound of Keith’s faint moan, at the brush of skin against skin as their arms shift and their bodies angle to fit together more perfectly.

It’s amazing and he almost wants to kick himself for not doing this sooner, except Keith’s hand is on his waist and it’s warm and solid and enough to distract him from any thoughts about their shared stupidity.

His eyes are almost completely closed, and he’s on top of Keith, somehow they’ve positioned themselves so that they’re lying on the couch, and he’s about to press down with his hips when a loud bark interrupts his thoughts and shatters the mood.

Keith’s panting, lips red and shiny, eyes glazed over, hair still a mess of blond bangs. He doesn’t quite register the bark, has to blink twice before he even notices Kotetsu is sitting up, looking embarrassed and a little shocked at himself.

 

**Eighth**

month, it’s the eighth freaking month now, and Kotetsu still catches himself kind of amazed, even as Keith spoons him, that this is happening, that he’s really in a relationship again.

It’s strange to put it into words, so he prefers not to because how would he explain it to others? How would he break the news to Kaede?

He doesn’t dwell on it, procrastinates, because

Because there’s a million grown-up excuses and he can have his pick.

Bunny knows, he’s the only one, but that’s a given because after eighteen, repeat, _eighteen_ , months of working together, they’re actually kind of close now. It took some fights and screaming about trust (mostly from Bunny’s side) and some scary moments of almost losing one another, but they’re close, and it’s a different close from the one he has with Keith.

With Keith, it sort of happened slow and fast but never all at once.

The bandages.

The looks.

The touch of a hand in a restaurant.

The embrace during one of the darkest periods in his life.

And then, what became the mark of their first month: a kiss.

Kotetsu is never good with dates, not the way Bunny is, but he remembers that kiss because that was the day he got his results back from the lab and they said they had – not a cure, but something to bring back his powers to the full five minutes, even if the _Hundred_ in Hundred Power was more like sixty or seventy-five at the max. He doesn't care, because it's all he’s asked for, all he wanted.

Legs shift underneath blankets and Keith sighs, a happy little sound, arms encircling a bare waist. Kotetsu closes his eyes as fingers rub circles on his skin, curious and daring, until they sneak down the fuzzy trail of his abdomen before halting at the border of boxer briefs.

Lips press firmly against a spot behind his ear and his breath hitches, his eyelids fluttering and his toes curling. Keith laughs, soft and almost silent, as Kotetsu leans into him, feeling the bony points of Keith’s hips as well as a hardness pressing against his back.

They don’t have many opportunities to take things slow, not when life drowns them in work and other business.

But today they’re lucky and _he’s lucky_ , because Keith, he’s almost too good, too much with his damned kindness and adoration and unshakable loyalty. If Kotetsu didn’t know Keith’s insecurities and flaws and his habit of being stubborn without fighting, he’d say the man was faking it. But he knows Keith is human, is prone to his fits in moods and his own annoyances, and it makes Kotetsu like Keith even more because, unlike their first meeting, he knows that smile isn’t a superficial cheerfulness.

He turns around, one leg swinging over Keith’s hip as arms wrap around his neck. Head tilting just barely, he kisses Keith on the mouth, feels the lips curving into a smile that says more than one thing, more than a few hundred things, and at the same time nothing at all because smiles don’t talk, Kotetsu, you sappy moron.


End file.
